Black Materia
by Fighter01
Summary: A journey of faith, a journey of life, a journey of the of the present in order to determine the past and be successful in the future, but the detour brought on by the land of shifting sands was too coincidental to be a mistake.


**Black Materia**

Sephiroth

Disclaimer: I do not own any of final fantasy characters or ideas of their characters.

- Thoughts are written in italics.

Prologue

He stood before the high priest with mud on his boots and a katana sword in his hand, he knew his quest had gone array due to the land of shifting sands which had completely altered his path. So how did these natives of a totally foreign land see the need to hold him in such high esteem, and how on earth did they know so much about him?

His breaths grew steady and his eyebrows furrowed as he changed his stance to a defensive one, tightening his grip on the sword. "No need to get agitated my dear Sephiroth." The high priest muttered lowly.

The corners of his mouth twitched; then turned into a deceptive grin. "I am not YOUR Sephiroth, ahora, vete al infierno- go to hell!"

Before the high priest could complete a blink, Sephiroth had performed multiple flash steps and was about to draw first blood by his sword. All so predetermined, he could feel his blade slicing through tender flesh and could almost hear the blood spraying from severed arteries. "You can't kill me," the voice of the priest broke his vision "you need me." Impossible, his blade was stopped in mid-air.

**Chapter one**

Youth is a gift best used by those who apply knowledge, but how best can you apply the knowledge of what you do not know? Cowards will wait for answers, but the valiant will journey in search of them. Consequently, this is exactly what Sephiroth had intended to do.

Approximately ten days had gone since he had begun his quest. The ultimate journey of knowledge, his personal quest which began from his small village in Sapproro and would end in Saudi Arabia as was written. Half his quest was already completed which was in fact, the hardest part. Sitting on the peak of the Gongga Shan Mountain seemed like a pretty far way to fall, just about seven thousand, five hundred and fourteen meters high. Yet, it provided the cool temperature and high winds that his body needed. Also, in the lush forest at its base, there was an abundance of food and water, enough to take him successfully through the Thar Desert without suffering from a lack of each.

With each heavy gust of wind that blew past, his silken silver hair took flight and captured his entire face in what was almost a cocoon being formed. He sat, lost in thought, as a result of being separated from his parents at birth, this quest was the only real was to know of his past in order to determine his future- after all, it has been said many times that the past, defines a man. Few journeyed, but none ever returned.

The gloss of his golden eyes shone with determination to finally know the truth, he could almost feel it now. A sigh of relief escaped his partially closed lips and he checked his wristwatch. One whole hour was spent revisiting the past and glancing at the future. Enough time was wasted; he rose and began to analyze his means of descending. Too much thinking, he hopped from one level to the other, constantly declining the mountain. Finally, after about five or more minutes of descending, he was at the base, on the other side _'Hm, why go around when you can go over?' _he thought. His backpack was empty and his re-hydration bladder, dry. However, fruit trees surrounded him, "Well better get started." He said to himself barely audible. From one tree to the next he went, picking even those he did not know, juicing some, storing them in bottles and eating and packaging the rest even a two liter bottle was filled to the brim with coffee beans that he conserved for later usage. Food was locked, now to find a source of water.

It did not take long for him to decipher the sounds of the Chang Jiang river, which not only had water, it was also packed with fish and proved a great area for camp. By now it was evening, the place began to darken. His fire started with tiny insignificant sparks that died out as quickly as they were created, giving up was out of the question, he never gave up, he tried again, nothing. His anger was beginning to escalate and he did something he promised himself not to do. He used a dark materia to cast fire.

Materia were as close as magic could get to a human, they harnessed conditions, natural forces and enmities, enmities stronger than any mortal man could imagine. The first enmity he saw at age six, the second, two years ago when he was seventeen, both caused chaos beyond imagination, ripped strong prominent villages to shreds. Sightings have never been so frequent, usually one would be seen only once in every thousand years and they never attacked, not until the black materia started to emit disturbing sound waves, causing the enmities to awaken and cause chaos and destruction. Well to him now, it was all an unsure and uncontrolled rumor like they all were. However he could not deny the fact that something was responsible for the awakening with the enmities and their violence.

The red, yellow and blue cloud of flames whipped around and engulfed the small fire pit he had built, low crackles from the fresh wood and small fir stones were a lullaby, but a lullaby to a person who rarely sleeps is utterly useless. He wanted to move and get out of the bondage he created for himself. Sometimes in lie, no matter how much you try within your means, nothing works, yet you continue trying nothing still. The results come forward when you work outside your means.

The rabid fire was warm and comforting, which also aided in food preparation, namely, a few small fish and some rice he had taken from Sapporo, pretty good thing grains didn't go bad or else he would not have had any now. Cooking was always a difficult task for him, but it was also a life lesson for travellers, he had no choice. Sitting at the hearth he could recall days when Master Takoi and Ryshu prepared his meals, adding perfection to everything they did. It was not tasty but at least it was edible and his only job at that time was to eat and be happy, now it was all different.

Along his quest, questions were raised as to why all the young men were sent to the same area. Surely they did not have the same destiny, and surely they were not all born in the same area. The village back in Sapproro consisted of young men and women from all over the globe, all of them faced very different circumstances and all had very different pasts. Another question by the natives of other villages was why none returned. Did they ever find truth? Sephiroth was puzzled, but would know everything soon enough. The rice had been successfully prepared, now only the three pieces of fish were left; fortunately, he had already cleaned and seasoned them. One by one he slid them over a stick, somewhat like a kebab and positioned them over the hearth to be roasted.

Quickly and silently he rose and unsheathed his rune blade. Something was amiss. He listened keenly, the whimpers of a young wolf crying in pain. It was not far, exactly the opposite side of the river, he looked, no movements. His footsteps were swift as they led him closer to the injured animal.

He could see everything now, all so clear the wolf was young but had an air of authority around it. Shrouded in silver fur it laid on the ground, shivering. Sephiroth went closer, being this near to a young wolf in pain was never a good idea, but it was far better than what he was about to do next. He stooped; curse his actions he had a better view, one that he could live without. Blood, lush crimson, glistening in the moonlight, flooding from a slash at the back of his neck, maybe they were caused by another wolf. This one was going to die and fast if he did not do something about it. Like a mother would lovingly lift her child, he did likewise, holding it close enough to calm the shivers and reassure the animal. No nips yet that was a good sign, maybe it was too weak, now that was a bad sign. He walked as smoothly as possible back to the fireplace he had created, and put the wolf to lie next to the fire, he weighed much less than Sephiroth had imagined. "Now to fix you up," he said softly as he casted cure from one of the two white materia he had left. He could tell that the wound had closed but the wolf was still weak, he needed protection and rest. Using a small pail he caught some fresh water from the river and took it back to the wolf, using it to rinse the blood from its coat. He then wrapped him in one of the sheets he travelled with and pushed him a little further from the fire however, he was asleep from the moment sephiroth dried his fur and wrapped him in the sheet. A truce was silently formed.

Morning dawned after what seemed like an eternity for the two, as Sephiroth opened his golden eyes to see the large wolf standing above him, strongly built and powerful in all his ways. Sephiroth sat, facing him the resemblance between man and beast were all too obvious, they were driven by the same determination, the same need, both had the same pride. In truth, the white materia 'cure' only works if the person or thing wishes to be cured, but he fought, fought for life itself. A growl escaped his throat as he barred his teeth, vicious, some people would have been thinking of the fastest way to leave by now, but Sephiroth was in full control. With a hard and steady glare, the beast was on its knees, "I think I'll call you Sentō-ki . . . the fighter."


End file.
